Come Back to Me_A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Vivien Vale

  “Shh,” I say, laying a hand across her lips. “I get it, pretty thing. You need me. I just want you to fucking moan now, hear me? You’re going to moan for me, and you’re going to listen to my voice.”

  Avery nods, looking up at me with abject seriousness in those pale-blue eyes of hers. Makes me fall even more in love with her.

  Some part of me—not even all that small of a part—feels like I’ve been in love with her all along, really.

  Just had to wait for my eyes to adjust after they were blinded by Avery’s perfect fucking light.

  “You’re gonna come for me, Avery,” I growl in her ear.

  My cock, big and thick and pulsating with need, churns her cunt into a lather. No matter how wet I make her, I’ve found that Avery can always get wetter. It’s like her pussy was made to take huge fucking cock, and I like it that way. “You’re going to come for me, and you’re going to do it on command. You hear me?”

  Avery nods her head in desperation. I can feel her breath against my fingers, all hot and ragged, coming in and out of her nose.

  “Not yet,” I say, getting my cock nice and deep. I can feel my cock head pushing right up against her fucking cervix. It’s rubbing itself flush with the entrance to her womb, and I know that’s exactly where I want to come. “Not yet…Not yet…NOW.”

  Her body spasms immediately. Like she was fucking bracing herself for it. Avery’s hips buck against me, forcing my cock even harder inside her.

  Her shoulders shake and her lips curl beneath my hand. I feel her perfect white teeth scrape against my palm as she snarls, and then her snarl becomes a scream.

  That’s when I fucking know. When she’s orgasming beneath me again, cunt spasming and sucking my cock even fucking deeper into her tight little pussy—I want to breed this woman. I want to fill her with my seed, fill her up with babies and curl up around her after, protecting her and our children from harm.

  I don’t know if I’ll be a good father. I don’t even know if I’ll be a good husband—and I do think I ought to make an honest woman of her first.

  But I know with Avery, I’ll figure it out. Because the last fucking thing I want to do is let this angel that the mountain dumped on my doorstep down.

  I let loose on her, fucking her harder than I’ve ever fucked her—or anyone else, for that matter—before.

  I feel my balls empty into Avery’s sweet, untapped womb so hard that I black the fuck out for a second—and when I come to, I’m still coming, still pumping her full of my seed, so I just keep fucking going.

  Biggest goddamn load of my life, and it’s filling up a cunt that only I’ve owned. A woman who has loved only me and me alone.

  “You’re mine,” I rasp, and now I’m the one fucking shaking.

  “I’m yours,” Avery says, smiling back at me.

  That congressman father won’t like that I’ve knocked up his baby girl—no, he won’t fucking like that at all. From the sounds of things, her father is a pretty big sack of shit, though. And if I’ve knocked her up, which I fucking know that I have, he won’t be able to oppose when I ask him for his permission to marry her.

  That is, if I fucking ask. Men like me aren’t very good at asking permission—no, we take what we want, when we want it.

  As Avery coos and smiles with my cock and cum deep inside her, I feel like I might have another load for her locked and ready, in fact.

  So I take her.

  Don’t think.

  Just do.

  Avery

  Are you hearing wedding bells? Because I sure as hell am! I’ve enjoyed a long, cozy winter with Jack, but now it’s spring at last.

  Sometimes, I kind of even miss the days where we were confined to Jack’s tiny cabin by the blizzards and snowbanks outside. I was never frightened for a minute, even in the stormiest weather.

  With Jack, I'm always safe.

  But slowly, the days became longer. Then the animals started coming out. Before I knew it, we’d fucked away the entire winter and tiny buds were appearing on the bushes and trees.

  Now, on the day of my wedding, they’re all in full bloom.

  Jack picked me a bouquet of wildflowers to match my bohemian lace dress. I love this stupid fucking dress so much, honestly. The last one was a construction of Mommy’s idea of who she wanted me to be. This one, I saw in the front window of a thrift store in town.

  Jack offered the owner a small fortune for it, but in exchange for a sizable donation to the local American Legion from the Lawson family, the owner insisted on just giving it to me.

  “Looks like it already ought to belong to you,” the man told me, and hey, who am I to argue with that?

  This is a wedding I'm not gonna run away from. This is where I'm really meant to be.

  Standing in the middle of the freaking wilderness with my big, burly mountain man at my side.

  I wanted to get married out here on the mountain with just a preacher and the two of us present. Plus Buck…and our secret guest of honor, of course. But Jack, of all people, wanted to invite the important people in our lives.

  For such a grumpy shut-in, he sure was enthusiastic about that part. A big hullabaloo of a wedding. He said he wants people to bear witness to our love, but I think he just might want to show me off.

  Either way, I can’t say that I disagree.

  My mother is flitting around trying to get things organized. Buck follows her everywhere she goes, Boof!-ing intimidatingly at anyone who doesn’t do as she says. She's annoyed that I gave her such short notice for the planning, but I know she thrives under the pressure.

  What can I say? I've been holed up with my man for the entire winter.

  My father is not present, thank you Jesus. I've barely seen him since my mother divorced him last month. It’s been a messy divorce, and the harder he tries to fight against her, the messier she makes it.

  She’s really dragged his name through the mud throughout the whole thing, trashing his reputation in the process.

  I think she’s kind of enjoying it. After a lifetime of being a quiet, subservient little homemaker, she seems to like having him by the balls. From the sounds of things, she can finally dig her nails in for once.

  "Mommy," I complain. "Stop messing with my hair. It's already perfect."

  "I just don't understand why you wouldn't allow me to have a hairstylist here," she says, exasperated.

  "Stop being silly. I want this to be my wedding. I want it to reflect me and Jack, not societal standards. That's not the way we live."

  She looks at me and shrugs in surrender. "Well, at least the flowers are fresh. It's simply gorgeous out here."

  Tell me something I don't know. Somehow over the winter months, I've become a true mountain woman. It feels as if this is my home now and I'm never gonna leave it.

  Jack comes up behind me and wraps his large hands around my tummy.

  "How are my two loves doing?" he says.

  I turn around to gaze up into his eyes. He looks handsome as ever. He's wearing a suit and yet somehow, he still looks so rugged.

  Maybe because even though it’s tailored perfectly, he’s still big enough and looks don’t-fuck-with-me enough that any moment, he might flex the wrong way and burst right out of it.

  "We’re hungry," I say, turning to grin at him. “Make us pancakes.”

  “Boof!” says Buck, nudging his way between us.

  I give him a loving scratch behind the ears. There are no kids in either of our families, but I’ve always kind of liked the idea of a dog as a ring-bearer. He’s got a little pillow to carry and everything. Mommy’s friends are in total awe.

  I reach up on the tips of my toes so I can give Jack a kiss and, obligingly, he dips down to meet me halfway.

  See? I fucking told you he’d bend down.

  The loves he's referring to are me and the one that I'm nurturing in my belly. After all that condom-less fucking, banging and sweet, sweet lovemaking…Yes, I'm super-duper three months pregnant.

&n
bsp; How could I not be after the winter we’ve had? Jack has turned out to be insatiable now that he knows he can let loose on me. I wake up in the morning to find my man hot, horny and standing at attention, ready to take me—and he fucks me every night, too. Claims it helps him sleep, but honestly? I think he just likes sticking it in me.

  When it happens multiple times a day in between our first and our last too…It was fucking inevitable. Something we both wanted so bad that it had to happen eventually.

  Jack's family is here and I kind of already love them. They're all so freaking nice and down to earth—so much easier to handle than my own family. They make me feel at ease just like Jack does. And every one of them is as excited for the baby as we are.

  Mostly though, I think they're excited that I've brought Jack back to life. At least that's what they keep telling me.

  Most of the other guests are just as important to Jack, even though he’s still getting used to the idea. All those letters home he had to write for the men in his squad must have made quite the impression…because every one of his fallen comrades is represented by a family member or two today.

  Hell, the whole Foley clan showed up. Most of them are clad in hunting vests and camo, not that I mind. It’s been funny, honestly, watching Mommy try to decide if it’s a fashion faux pas or if they have an inside ear on next year’s fashion week that she doesn't know about.

  If I’m being totally honest, I wanted to wait. After my last fiasco of a wedding, I wasn’t even sure I wanted another one at all. I think Jack was a little put out by it, but he’s always wanted to do what makes me happiest, regardless of how he might feel.

  There just wasn’t a rush to get married. We’re married in our hearts already. But as soon as I told my socialite mother about the baby, she can’t stand the scandal of an unwed pregnant daughter.

  In a way, this wedding is for her.

  But in a bigger way, it’s for Jack. The night we met, he saw me in a bridal gown I put on for another man. Now, he’s seeing me in one I put on for him.

  And like, actually? It’s such a splendid day and the sun is shining in magical beams through the trees. Everything is so beautiful that I'm starting to believe I want this too.

  It's not a bad thing to celebrate our love in front of everybody within the wilderness we’re so fucking gaga over. I mean, come on! It’s love! There’s not a single bad thing about that.

  "Jack," I say. "You make me so damn happy. You're the love of my life. You know that, right?"

  He sweeps me up in his arms and easily twirls me around. Even three months pregnant, I am not hard for Jack to pick up. He'll be the perfect doting father—I can already tell.

  "And you finally learned to swear," he whispers into my ear. “I could fucking eat you up.”

  I feel his hard cock rising against his pants. If it gets any harder, he’s going to have to take off his belt…

  And I really like what happens when Jack takes off his belt.

  I wish for a moment that no one was here and we were all alone, free to express our love in the best way we know how.

  Rutting like animals until we’re both too fucking exhausted to walk.

  Instead, I take my hand and trace the long line of his beautiful shaft through his suit pants. It’s kind of funny—this is the first time I’ve ever seen Jack in something other than coveralls or jeans.

  It kind of makes me want to take him to one of those awful state dinners I used to hate so much, just to see him all spiffed up like this again. The French ambassador and his wife, I’m sure, would absolutely adore him.

  Jack’s tie, of course, is flannel, but I think he’d feel a little lost without it.

  I lick my lips and whisper teasingly in his ear.

  "Later. We can consummate our marriage later."

  His hungry expression matches my own and I know we have a night of intense lovemaking ahead of us. With so much to celebrate, who wouldn't?

  Jack has so much stamina that he often takes me several times a day. We fuck all the time. And it's exactly how I like it.

  I take his hand and pull him around to show him the decorations that my mother's figured out. Despite my complaints against her, she's really pulled together a beautiful wedding with a comfortable yet classy rustic vibe.

  Pretty little lights drip from the branches of every tree and the makeshift aisle is lined with beautifully sculpted log benches.

  My mother has somehow arranged catering way out here in the middle of nowhere. The food is fantastic, and everyone seems to be happy. But most of all, Jack and I are happy. This is my happily ever after and I never imagined it could be this good.

  Maybe in my fantasies someway, somehow I imagined I'd be with a man like Jack. He does seem kind of like a man you’d only fantasize about—not a living, breathing mountain man who actually exists. But my mind didn't really believe what my heart wanted.

  To be treated like a queen and fucked like a whore.

  With Jack, I’m complete. We make each other whole. Sure, some nights I still wake up with him pinned on top of me, imagining that I’m some faceless enemy from his worst dreams. Some nights, he wakes up with me on top of him, beating my fist against his chest and reliving the worst night of my life.

  But we know how to calm each other down. We understand each other’s pain. And finally, I feel free to be the person I’ve always wanted to be. All because of Jack.

  I show Jack around and I think he doesn't understand anything about why the decorations matter to me so much.

  "Isn't it beautiful?" I say to him as we stand against the trunk of a tree that's shimmering with crystals under the sun.

  "Fuck the decorations. You’re the beautiful one," he says, kissing me.

  And before I realize what he's doing, he's got me pulled into the woods where no one can see us.

  "Jack! What are you doing?"

  "I'm ready to consummate this…now."

  With that, he's kissing me and pulling my dress up. I allow myself to float freely, off the beaten path and over the edge of the mountain, into the crevasse of love that is now my life.

  Forever.

  Second Chance Baby Daddy

  A Billionaire + Virgin Romance

  By Vivien Vale

  Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.

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  Dylan

  My nerve endings feel as if they’re on fucking fire.

  All of my muscles are ready to spring into action if need be. It’s taken me over two hours of skimming over the deep snow before I’ve finally found something to shoot for dinner.

  It sounds fucking hard, but it really isn’t it. I mean, those folks in the city, in their big fucking houses with the huge mortgages, pay hundreds of dollars a month to go to a gym to get exercise.

  Not me.

  I go and shoot my own dinner. Up here in the mountains, I’m totally self-sufficient. There’s no supermarket, convenient store—or any other luxury, for that matter.

  Nope. There’s just the mountains, my cabin, and me.

  It wasn’t easy at first. The whole damn thing was a real culture shock, but now? Fuck, now, I’m used to it. I’m more than used to it—I like it.

  I’ve donned the bearskin coat in exchange for the Armani suits, the starched white shirts, and the ties. Reality is, those things may have made me look super hot, but they don’t keep me fucking warm out here. Sure, the women threw themselves at me in those clothes, but newsflash: there are no women in the mountainside.

  No beanie, no gloves today—they would just slow me down. As long as my body’s covered and I keep mov
ing, I’m okay.

  I close my right eye and focus with my left. It’s perfectly still around me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone pressed the mute button on nature. In the beginning, this sort of silence unnerved me. It was eerie.

  Over time, I grew used to it. Now I know I would fucking miss it if I didn’t hear it anymore.

  Snow settles on my outstretched bow arm.

  Since leaving my cabin, a storm has been brewing. Soft flakes fall, and the ominous dark color of the sky predicts only worse things to come.

  The rabbit knows it, too. I can see his nose twitch. Slowly, softly, and carefully, I draw back on my bow. As I do, I’ve got the rabbit in my line of sight.

  If my arrow hits its target, I’ll have dinner sorted for at least the next few days.

  The unknown in all this is my new arrow. I’ve carved it from a special wood and shaped the tip of it from some scrap metal I found. During practice shoots, it worked fucking perfectly.

  These days, I’m nearly self-sufficient in everything. From my mode of transport—my feet—to hunting and growing my own food and tea, I haven’t needed anything else but nature. Minimal impact on the environment, minimal living expenses—it’s a win-win situation.

  There’s the tiniest of whoosh sounds as I release the arrow and keep my eye on the target. I see a twitch in the rabbit’s ear before he drops dead where he’s standing. Luckily, the creature never knew what hit it.

  I pick him up, take out my arrow, and put it back in the slim leather quiver hanging off my belt. Then I attach the rabbit to the same belt and set off again.

  By now, the wind’s increased, and the snow is coming down almost horizontally. Time to head back. It’s unlikely I’ll be lucky enough to find another animal.

  Before I turn, though, I see footprints that grab my interest.

  No harm in investigating.